Taking Flight
by dettiot
Summary: Sarah reconnects with Chuck while performing a mission on a Tokyo-Paris flight. Post-Chuck vs. the Goodbye.


**Title**: Taking Flight

**Author**: dettiot

**Rating**: T on the border with M

**Summary**: Sarah reconnects with Chuck while performing a mission on a Tokyo-Paris flight. Post-_Chuck __vs__. __the __Goodbye_.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own _Chuck_.

**Author****'****s ****Note**: Sexual content ahead, folks. I think this is in T territory, but if you disagree I'd like to hear it. I hope you enjoy my look inside Sarah's head after a few months have gone by for her and Chuck. If you'd like to see the picture that inspired the story, visit my Tumblr (dettiot dot tumblr dot com).

XXX

Whether she was Sarah Walker or Sarah Bartowski, she hated waiting in airports. She got a jittery, restless feeling, a "let's get on with it" impulse that nearly made her want to pull out her badge and shove her way to the front of the line.

Unfortunately, there were several problems with that plan. One: she didn't have a CIA badge anymore. Not until after she completed the mission that had brought her to Narita International Airport in Tokyo tonight. And two, her cover was as a trainee copilot on an All Nippon Airways flight to Paris, and she had to show the proper deference to the rest of the flight crew in order to maintain that cover.

Sarah adjusted her uniform and looked out the large windows by her seat. It was twilight and lights twinkled on buildings and planes. All around her, people were hurrying, focused on their goal to get home and see their loved ones.

She took a deep breath. General Beckman had agreed, after expressing much resistance, to assign her to this mission. She had practically begged the general to let her do this: to prove that although some of her memories might be missing, she was still a spy. Sarah hadn't cared what kind of mission she was given; she just knew she had to get away. Had to find some kind of meaning for her life, something that she could do.

Since clearly, she didn't know how to be a wife. Since it seemed she had forgotten all she'd learned about love and support in the last five years.

Wincing, Sarah closed her eyes. In the four months since that day on the beach, she had slowly regained some of her memories. The memories weren't gone forever, yet the key to unlocking them was still lost. And it had hurt too much, to look at Chuck and know he was patiently waiting and hoping for his Sarah to return. He was waiting, and meanwhile she was falling for him, yet how could she compete with his memories of her? Of that other Sarah, who knew him, who knew how to love him without running away?

It had all come to a head one evening last week. In the last few weeks, she had become comfortable enough to give him a soft kiss on the cheek before they went to their separate bedrooms. Although if she was honest with herself, it wasn't just about comfort. Her emotions had been awoken by Chuck, who was so smart and kind and funny. This man was so full of love for her, and it made this whole horrible situation seem not so hopeless. He made her believe that love really did exist. They had fallen in love before, and they could fall in love again, maybe.

On that Wednesday night, something had made her turn her head at the last moment, bringing her lips into contact with his. Within a moment, the chaste kiss became a heated, open-mouthed kiss with roaming hands and bodies pressing against each other. She let herself get swept away by him, by the feeling of his kisses, his arms around her, by the warmth he created inside her. She'd never felt so cherished, so protected.

Chuck had moaned her name, and something about the desperation, the need, the love in his voice made her realize she loved him. She'd always loved him, whether it was from the day she met him at the Buy More or when he told her their story while sitting on the beach.

And that made her feel absolutely terrified. She'd pulled away and stared at him, her breathing ragged and uneven and not just from her fear.

There was self-reproach in his eyes. As if he blamed himself for letting things go too far. And she both hated and welcomed seeing that, because she knew she had been just as eager as he was; it hadn't just been his desire that prompted that body-melting kiss. But she was too scared to think clearly. She just knew she had to get away.

She asked Chuck for some time away, for space to think. She'd done her best not to look him in the eye, because she knew she was hurting him. She could hear it in his choked breaths, could see it in the tension that tightened his body. Yet he once again put his own feelings aside and gave her what she asked for. He let her go, without any demands or requests.

After she threw some clothes in a bag, she left that night. She had called in old favors, trying to match her memories with current reality, and somehow, she had gotten Beckman to give her a chance. This mission was just a test, barely a step up from a milk run. Sarah knew that, but it was a start.

This mission had to be performed flawlessly. She had to do this right, because she needed something to help her regain her confidence. Something that would take her mind off how much she had screwed up with Chuck. Kissing him and then running away had to be the last straw for him. He was bound to have realized that the yawning gap between them just couldn't be bridged. Maybe now he could start moving on. Find someone who could see how worthy and deserving of love he was, someone who could love him without reservations or complications.

Her face felt wet, and Sarah lifted her hand and wiped away the tear that had slipped down her cheek. She took a deep breath, trying to regain some control. She had to concentrate on this mission, and perhaps once she was in that post-successful mission glow, things would seem clearer.

A young woman, wearing a uniform similar to hers, approached Sarah and spoke softly in Japanese-accented English, telling her it was time for the cabin crew to board. Sarah nodded and stood up, picking up her carry-on as her eyes swept around the gate area and gauged the airplane's crew.

Her cover as a trainee pilot would get her on the plane; Sarah wouldn't have to use her very rusty flying skills on this mission. According to Beckman, there had been a few scattered intelligence reports that indicated this flight was going to be used by terrorists as an opportunity to network between various cells. So Beckman ordered Sarah to monitor the passengers and note any suspicious individuals, then contact Langley for further instructions.

"One of the pilot rest cabins will be at your disposal, with surveillance equipment ready. And you'll be working with another agent-no arguments, Sarah," Beckman had said, cutting off her objections. "That agent will be planted among the passengers and will make contact with you once the flight's in the air."

Without any other options, Sarah had accepted these conditions and prepared for the mission. And now, she was stepping on to the newest airplane from Boeing, a large, luxurious plane that was also more environmentally friendly than any other jet in existence. It did give Sarah a small thrill to get to see the Dreamliner in action, even if the mission came first, of course.

Once she was on board, Sarah glanced around. The two pilot rest rooms were tucked away between the first-class galley and the cockpit, giving the crew ready access to both food and sleep. She peeked into the first one and saw a small room with two beds, a curtain hung between them. She didn't see any equipment, so she checked the other room and saw a case pushed up against the wall.

Sarah stepped into the room and slid the door shut. She kneeled down in front of the case and opened it, pulling out the transmitters and receivers. Spreading the equipment out on the floor, she started sorting and organizing it as quickly as possible. She frowned as she realized some of the devices were different from what she remembered; she'd have to figure out the best way to use them and hope it didn't backfire on her. Or perhaps the other agent could help her, if it wouldn't make her look too weak.

The sound of the engines spooling up alerted her that the plane was taking off. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves, and opened her purse, pulling out the passenger manifest. As the plane leveled out, she scanned the list, making mental notes of who might be the suspected terrorists. Within a few moments of the plane reaching cruising altitude, there was a soft knock on the door.

That must be the other agent, Sarah thought to herself. She rose to her feet and unlocked the folding door, schooling her face into a neutral, professional expression. Then she pulled the door open as it folded in on itself, like the restroom doors.

And as the door folded and revealed the other agent, Sarah felt like she was folding in on herself, too.

Because the other agent was Chuck.

She stared at him, feeling her heart drop down into her stomach. He looked good. Not like a man who was miserable and moping. He was wearing jeans and a red t-shirt under a black jacket, paired with his ever-present Chucks. She gripped the door tightly, needing something to keep herself from just dropping to the floor and curling into a ball and pushing away all these messy, scary, disorienting feelings.

"Can I-can I come in, Sarah?" Chuck asked softly, glancing around the passage.

Sarah swallowed, scrambling to regain her professionalism. She nodded and stepped back, giving him space to slip in the room. She pushed the door shut, closing it with a loud click, and used the noise to cover the deep breath she took. Her mind was racing as she kept facing the door. "Beckman didn't tell me you'd be the other agent on this mission."

Chuck's voice was soft and gentle. "She didn't tell me directly, but . . . but I had a feeling when she called me yesterday."

Squaring her shoulders, she turned to face him. "What did she tell you?"

"That she had an agent who was just getting back in the field, one who would need some support." Chuck looked at her, his hands shoved in the pocket of his jeans. His eyes were full of emotion, but his face was neutral and reserved. "Someone I had worked well with before."

She swallowed as she remembered some of those missions. The times when they could move in unison, anticipate each other's movements, communicate volumes with just a look. Even when things went wrong, they'd found a way to make it work and be successful.

"A bit of an understatement," she said quietly, gazing up at him.

Chuck's face relaxed, a small smile quirking his lips. "Yeah."

Sarah couldn't look away from his face. Working with Chuck had been the best experience in her whole career, but he'd been the one to show her that a career wasn't a life. That she could have friends and family, a normal life, all while being a strong, talented spy. The thought of being in the field again with Chuck made the knot inside her loosen. She felt . . . confident. Ready to do anything, if Chuck was at her side.

"I . . . I suppose we should get to work."

Chuck's voice broke through her reverie, and Sarah started. Had she really been standing there thinking all that while gazing at him like that? She felt color rush into her cheeks, but she nodded to him and tried to act friendly while focusing on the mission.

"That sounds good." She walked over to the equipment and kneeled down. "Some of this surveillance equipment is new to me . . ." She looked up at him, hoping he'd see the opening she had given him.

Chuck, with his love of gadgets and electronics, lit up at the chance to explain things to her. She felt a wave of relief that he was so eager to help her, in spite of what he must be thinking. That she was doing this as a way to get back into the CIA's good graces, to pick up her career and leave him behind.

As she watched and listened to him, she felt herself falling even more in love with him. Whether she had all her memories or not, her heart remembered him, remembered what they had. This mission wasn't about returning to her old life as Sarah Walker. She didn't want to go back to that life. She wanted to reclaim the life she had made with Chuck, to be Sarah Bartowski again. She was done with running away from him, shying away from all the possibilities and opportunities that such a life had. Because with Chuck, she could be anything, not just a spy.

Sarah took a breath and made a promise to herself. Before they left this plane, he'd know how she felt. She just had to find the right time to tell him about her decision. But she'd tell him that he didn't have to keep waiting for her, because she was ready.

When he had finished giving her all the details about the equipment, he sat back and looked at her. "So we're keeping this professional, I see," he said softly.

His words didn't carry any anger, just a trace of sadness and regret. She looked at him and took a leap. "Just-just until the mission is done."

He frowned, looking confused. "What do you mean, Sarah?"

"I mean that once we-once we've finished the job, we can talk." She bit her lower lip, hoping that this wouldn't backfire on her.

Chuck looked at her for a long moment, his forehead wrinkled and his eyes narrowed. Then, as if he had suddenly gotten a hint at what she meant, his whole face changed. His forehead smoothed out, his eyes widened, and that beautiful, big, _happy_ smile spread across his mouth.

"Really?" he asked, looking like he'd just gotten a gift he hadn't expected to receive.

She nodded, unable to speak with all the emotions churning within her.

Chuck swallowed and gave his head a quick shake, as if he was trying to calm himself down. "Then-then let's get to work and then we can . . . talk." He gave her a smaller version of his happy smile, his eyes alight with his emotions.

Sarah nodded again, feeling a small smile dawn on her face. "Yeah." She took a breath and lifted up the passenger manifest, passing it to him. "This is the passenger list. Do you recognize any of the names on it?"

He took the paper carefully, keeping his hand from touching hers. She understood his discretion; right now, she doubted she'd be able to get anything done if he touched her. As he ran his eyes over the list, she saw him pause and then flash.

"This one," he said, pointing at a name on the list. "Eduardo Esparza is an alias for Jean-Claude Le Duc."

The name sounded familiar to her, and she frowned, trying to remember.

"The weapons dealer," Chuck said. "Responsible for most of the illegal arms traffic in Europe."

Sarah nodded. "So sounds like the intelligence was right; it can't be a coincidence that he's on this flight."

"Especially with three cell leaders on board, too."

Sarah ran her eyes over the list as Chuck pointed out the names of Le Duc's lieutenants. "How about we bug Le Duc and at least one of his cell leaders, so we can pick up a variety of conversations?"

"Lower risk than bugging them all," Chuck said in agreement. "Do we need to call this in?"

"That was my orders," Sarah said. "Identify who was on the flight and ask for further instructions."

Chuck wrinkled his nose. "Beckman doesn't seem to have a lot of faith in you," he said, then winced. "And sorry. You-you don't need me reminding you of that."

"It's okay," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "It's the truth."

"No, it's not," he said quickly. "You're an amazing spy, and anyone who thinks otherwise doesn't know anything."

Sarah ducked her head, feeling his belief in her act like a warm blanket on a cold night. "Thank you," she said softly.

He gently patted her shoulder. "You're welcome." He kept his hand on her shoulder and she let herself have a moment to soak up his strength, to give herself confidence.

Taking a deep breath, she looked at him and smiled. "I'll call this in, and then we'll get started."

Chuck nodded and gave her a small smile. "Okay."

Rising from her spot on the floor, she pulled out her phone and made the call. Working with Chuck again was so easy, so simple. She could only hope the rest of this mission would go so easily, so they could get to the hard part: talking about their future.

XXX

Sarah collapsed onto the end of one of the beds in the pilot rest room, breathing slowly. "Okay, that didn't go so well."

Chuck laughed and flopped down next to her. "Yeah, that wasn't exactly picture-perfect."

She turned her head and looked at him, unable to keep from smiling. "I had an instructor at the Farm who said, 'It doesn't have to be pretty as long as it works.'"

"At least we got the intel," Chuck said, grinning at her.

Sarah nodded and sat up. "At least we got the intel," she repeated, taking off her cap and yanking on the pins in her hair. "Which means I can finally take my hair down." Once the pins were out, she gave her hair a shake, feeling it fall around her shoulders.

Glancing at Chuck through the curtain of her hair, she noticed he looked awestruck. His eyes were wide and his mouth was hanging open slightly. She pushed her hair back, trying to get a better look at him, and he swallowed and sat up, too.

"You-you probably need to call Beckman again, and I should-I can go back to my seat."

Sarah frowned. "But . . . " She took a deep breath. "What about our talk?"

Chuck licked his lips. "Right. I remember you saying that. Um . . . okay. I'll stay here."

"Great," she said quickly, not wanting him to change his mind. "That's great. Let me just call Beckman, and then I'll change and we can . . . we can talk."

He nodded, looking a bit dazed. "Okay."

Sarah picked up her small carry-on and grabbed her phone. "I'll be right back."

She stepped out of the room, noting that Chuck still seemed a bit shocked that she wanted him to stay. But she did. She more than wanted him to stay-she wanted to never leave him.

Taking her phone, she dialed Beckman's direct line. When the general answered, Sarah spoke quietly. "Mission accomplished."

"Very good, Sarah," Beckman said crisply. "I'll expect your report once you land."

"Yes, General." Sarah took a deep breath. "Thank you for giving me this opportunity, but . . . but I've reconsidered my initial request."

There was silence on the other end of the phone for a long moment, then Beckman spoke. "I was hoping you might come to that conclusion."

She gripped the phone tightly. "You were?"

"Of course I was," Beckman said, her voice strangely gentle. "Sarah, the last place you should be is out in the field. You should be with your husband." Beckman paused, then spoke crisply again. "Enjoy the rest of your flight. An agent will meet you when you land to handle the surveillance equipment."

"Yes, General." Sarah quickly hung up the phone, leaning back against the wall. So she had cut the cord. She wouldn't be going back to the CIA now. If this conversation with Chuck didn't work out-

Sarah shook her head. She wouldn't think like that. She didn't want to have the whole conversation mapped out and planned, thinking that Chuck would respond the way she expected. She wanted this to be natural.

She stepped into one of the bathrooms and changed into the clothes she had in her carry-on: jeans and a thin black sweater. She swapped her pumps for a pair of ankle boots, then looked at herself in the small mirror. She sighed softly. Her appearance wasn't exactly swoonworthy: there were traces of dark circles under her eyes and her hair was an unruly mess due to her quick work removing the hairpins. She quickly ran her hands through her hair, then took a deep breath. She was stalling. And she had done a lot of that lately. It was time to stop.

Before she started second-guessing herself, she stepped out of the bathroom and headed back to the pilot rest room. She stepped into the room quietly, finding Chuck pacing back and forth in the confined space. He looked at her, then gave her a small smile. "Hi."

"Hi," she said back, feeling her heart lift a little. He was still here. He was waiting for her. She crossed the room and sat down at the foot of one of the beds. "Feeling a bit cabin-crazy?"

"Yeah . . . long flights, they always get me." Chuck sounded a bit sheepish, like he was embarrassed by this fact.

"I remember," she said softly.

He looked at her, his face surprised. "You do?"

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak at the moment. There was something about how he never expected her to remember him that made her heart break a little.

Chuck slowly walked over and sat on the end of the other bed, keeping some space between them. She could see the tension in his shoulders and how hard he was trying to keep himself under control. Yet he couldn't control his eyes. She could see the nervousness and worry swirling in their depths, almost camouflaging the hope that lingered deep within.

Taking a breath, she reached out and took his hand. "First . . . I want to apologize for what happened last week. After-after we kissed."

"You don't have to apologize, Sarah . . ." he said quietly. "I got carried away, and I shouldn't have."

"You weren't the only one in that kiss," she spoke softly, looking at him. "I wanted to kiss you. But then I . . . I got scared, and I panicked. And when that happens, I run away."

He nodded. "That's what you used to do."

She closed her eyes for a moment, knowing he didn't mean to sound reproachful but still feeling guilty. She swallowed and opened her eyes. "I overreacted. I'm sorry for that."

Chuck squeezed her hand gently. "I understand, Sarah. I . . . I was prepared for you to get scared."

"Were you prepared for me to run to Tokyo?" Sarah asked, her voice a bit weak.

He gave her a small smile. "No, but . . . but hey, I got to come to Tokyo, and I had enough time to see all the gadgets that are available only here, and that was . . . incredibly nerdy, but still fun for me."

Sarah smiled back. "A silver lining, huh?" He nodded but stayed silent.

She gazed at him, so many feelings welling up inside her. This was it. This was the moment that she stopped hiding behind her mind and started listening to her heart.

"Chuck?" she started. "I said I needed some space after we kissed . . . and honestly, I did. Not as much space as I took, but I did need some time. Time to-to figure out my feelings."

He looked at her, but he didn't say anything, even though she could see him struggling to stay silent. She grasped his hand tightly, hunting for the right words. "I . . . I figured out . . ." She swallowed, wishing that she had his gift with words. His ability to be so open with his feelings. But she didn't, so she'd have to find some kind of way to get the words out. She had to start with something.

"What . . . what I learned was that-that I didn't want to go back to work for the CIA."

Chuck's face was confused. She flushed, embarrassed that talking about her job was the best way to start confessing her feelings to him. As if her career was the important thing right now.

"I just mean, maybe it's time for me to be a civilian, and see what else I could do, and maybe it'd be something in the private intelligence sector-like what we did before-or something totally different, but . . . but I know that being a CIA agent isn't what's important to me right now." She closed her mouth, needing to stop and breathe and give Chuck a chance to understand what she was saying.

He looked at her, the confusion clearing from his face. "Anything I can do to help you, I'll do, Sarah," he said softly, his voice kind and gentle.

"I-I know," she said, his kindness making something inside her crack open. She licked her lips, mentally flailing for how to tell him about her feelings. "Chuck?"

For some reason, maybe because of something in her voice, he moved a bit closer to her. "What is it, Sarah?"

He was so close. She felt almost like she was vibrating, she was trying so hard to keep herself under control. To keep herself from wrapping her arms around him and never letting go. But he deserved the words. She'd always let her actions speak for themselves, and that's how they had spent nearly two years dancing around the spark that existed between them. Chuck had taught her that with the right person, words weren't scary. But she felt like she was ready to break into a million pieces if she couldn't touch him.

She lifted her eyes to his. Softly, her voice choked, she managed to speak. "Chuck, you're what's important to me."

"Sarah?" he asked, his voice sounding confused and worried and oh, so hopeful. He was trying not to reveal how he felt, but she knew. She knew him. And he hadn't stopped hoping that she'd come back to him. And now, she was coming back.

She lifted her hands and cupped his face, gazing into his eyes. "I fell in love with you again, Chuck. Or remembered why I loved you in the first place." His face was wavering in her view, because her eyes were filling with tears. "Or maybe I just stopped pretending that I could live without you."

He wasn't speaking. He looked dumbstruck, like a computer that was being asked to do too much and had slowed down. She slid her hands from his face to his shoulders and blinked, sending a tear coursing down her cheek and clearing her vision. And that seemed to reach him.

"_Sarah_," he said, pulling her towards him and into his arms. He buried his face against her neck, holding her tightly, like he thought she might change her mind and pull away. But she wasn't going anywhere.

"Chuck," she whispered, pressing her face against his shoulder and letting a few tears fall. Everything felt right, complete, perfect, in this moment.

He must have felt her tears, because he pulled back and lifted her face. "Oh, baby, don't cry, please don't cry-" He brushed his fingertips lightly over her face, his eyes locked on hers. He smiled at her, his big happy smile, and she couldn't help smiling back, even if the tears hadn't completely gone away.

"I'm sorry, I'm just really happy now," she said, sniffing a little.

Chuck's smile finally reached his eyes, and it was like a switch being thrown and lighting him up. All the love and happiness and joy returned to his eyes, and she nearly sighed to see it. Instead, she reached up and kissed him.

At the touch of his lips, she felt the urge to close her eyes, to sink into this kiss that would be the first of many many more. But instead, she fought the urge for a moment, wanting to watch his face as she kissed him. And seeing how his eyes fluttered shut, feeling how his whole body relaxed as he poured himself into the kiss . . . she couldn't keep watching that, or she'd explode. So she closed her eyes and focused on one thing: kissing her husband.

His lips were so soft. She felt like she was falling into bed at the end of a hard day, all her fears and pains drifting away until there was nothing but bliss. Sliding her arms around his neck, she moved closer to him. This was all she needed. Him and oxygen, she realized as she had to stop kissing him in order to breathe. She brushed her nose against his, and Chuck sighed.

"Sarah . . ." he said softly.

"I'm here," she said, running her fingers through his hair.

He tightened his arms around her. "I-I can't-is this for good?" He looked at her and his voice was choked when he spoke. "I can't let you go again."

"No letting go," she said, finding a belief in him, in them, that she sensed she'd always had. "Not ever again."

Chuck searched her face, then let out a soft sigh of relief before kissing her hungrily. His mouth was eager, firm, exploring hers with lips and tongue. Her body felt warm, so warm, and she couldn't get enough of him. She clutched at him, matching his pace and taking all she could from him.

She didn't know how long they kissed like this; time became irrelevant. Their hands started wandering, touching backs and shoulders and hips. When she slid her fingers under the hem of his t-shirt and lightly stroked his side, Chuck pulled away from her, panting. "Sarah, Sarah-" His face was flushed and his hair was rumpled, and she'd never seen anything so gorgeous. "Anyone could come in . . ."

She smiled at him widely, feeling like fireworks were going off inside her. "I can fix that." She climbed off the bed, marveling at how shaky her legs were from just his kisses, and went to the door to lock it. She then turned to face him, resting against the door for a moment and looking her fill. As she walked slowly back towards the bed, she could see his eyes bugging out, his hands clenching the bedcovers.

"Sarah, are you sure about this?" he asked as she crawled onto the bed, kneeling beside him. "You deserve better than this admittedly very nice airplane bedroom-"

"I deserve you," she interrupted, gazing at him. A stray memory came back to her, of the two of them in Paris, finally together, and Chuck's hesitation about taking the next step. So she said the same thing she said before.

"Shut up and kiss me."

It was the right thing to say. Because he positively beamed at her, with his smile and his eyes and his arms opening wide for her. With an equally dazzling smile, she crawled into his lap and he kissed her slowly, cupping the back of her head gently as he stroked the inside of her mouth with his tongue. She moaned and pressed against him, needing to be closer, wanting to feel all of him.

He whispered against her lips, "Okay?" as he moved his hand under her sweater and stroked her back. The touch of his fingers, warm and a little rough but so gentle, made her moan again. She nodded in response to his whispered question, and Chuck leaned in and kissed her again, his hand pressed flat against her back.

How did he do this? How did he make her feel like she was melting, everything that made her hard and tough softening into warmth and love? She didn't know, but she wanted to keep feeling this way. And she wanted him to feel the same way. To feel how much she loved him.

She waited until they had stopped kissing to lean back and pull her sweater up and over her head. Once she had tossed it aside, she looked at him, taking in his wide, glazed eyes and his flushed face. He always did this, she remembered. He always acted like seeing her with her top off was the best, most amazing thing he'd ever seen. She took a deep breath, letting him look even though her fingers were itching to yank up his shirt, to get all their clothes off, to touch every inch of him.

"You-you are so beautiful," he said hoarsely, his voice low. He lifted his eyes to hers, and she felt a blush rise in her cheeks.

"You are, too," she whispered, resting her hands on his shoulders. She knew he'd disagree with her, but his smile and his eyes and his heart made him beautiful to her. Before he could argue with her, she leaned in and kissed him, her fingers stroking his shoulders and neck.

He started running his hands over her, his kisses moving from her mouth to trail over her face, her jaw, her neck. She held on tightly to him, clutching at his t-shirt.

Suddenly he pulled back and whipped his shirt over his head. He drew her against his chest, and she sighed at the skin-to-skin contact. "Chuck . . ." she half-moaned, half-whispered.

"Sarah," he said, his voice deeper than normal. He pulled her down on the bed with him, and their kisses shifted and became deeper, longer. She ran her hands over him, both remembering him and discovering him. It was a strange, intoxicating feeling, her memories of how warm he was contrasted with learning that he moaned when she ran her fingers down his spine.

They slowly undressed each other, Sarah unable to look away from him. He was all lanky and lean, and she couldn't stop touching him.

Then he was pulling away, getting off the bed, and she felt cold. "Chuck?" she asked, propping herself up on her elbows.

"Sorry, sorry-just need-" He started fumbling in his jeans before pulling out his wallet.

A condom. Of course, since she wasn't on birth control. At least, she didn't think she was. Sarah frowned as a stray memory floated up to the surface. "Morgan left you an IOU for a condom once?"

Chuck grinned at her, a big goofy grin. "He did. But believe me, I had a _long_ talk with him about that, and he's never done it again. Especially not after I stole his emergency condom the first night we were home from Paris."

She couldn't help a soft giggle, imagining how Morgan reacted when he discovered that theft. It was something new for her, to laugh during sex. To have fun, to feel such a connection with someone that anything could happen.

Sarah smiled at him as he walked towards her. She reached out for him, and he happily slid into her arms and kissed her softly.

"You're really sure?" he asked, gazing at her. "I can wait."

"I know you can," she said softly. "But . . . but I don't want to wait any more."

He nuzzled her softly. "I-I love you, Sarah."

The sound of those words weren't scary anymore. They sounded perfect. "I love you, too," she responded quietly, wrapping her arms around him.

Chuck gazed down at her and stroked some of her hair out of her face. Then he leaned in and kissed her slowly and tenderly as they became one.

XXX

She couldn't get close enough to him, not even in the afterglow. She curled up against his side, holding on to him and resting her head against his shoulder. He slowly stroked her hair, his movements lazy and a bit clumsy. She sighed softly. "This feels perfect."

He smiled at her, his eyes full of love. "That so, Mrs. Bartowski?"

Sarah smiled back at him, shifting to prop her head up with one hand. "Yeah." She paused. "Mr. Walker."

Once again, she saw that special smile take over his face, the one he got when she remembered something. "That's me," he said softly, leaning in to lightly kiss her.

She kissed him back and stroked his shoulder. "We'll be landing in Paris soon," she said, gazing at him.

It took him a moment to reply. "Do you want to go right back to Burbank?" he asked softly. "Because . . . we could always spend a few days in Paris."

His question made her pause. A second honeymoon in Paris, the city where they had first made love, first become a real couple. It was enticing, seductive. Yet . . .

"Actually, I'd like . . . I'd like to go back," she said, gazing at him. "Get our lives started together. Paris will always be there, and it'll always be special, but Burbank . . . that's where I fell in love with you. Both times."

Chuck's hand stilled in her hair, and he looked at her with his heart in his eyes. She took a deep breath and leaned in to kiss him. He was just starting to respond when a rattle came from the door to their room.

A voice spoke in Japanese, then in thick English. "The plane, it land!"

They looked at each other and laughed softly. "_Domo __arigato_!" Sarah called out, then turned to Chuck and smiled. "I guess this means we've got to leave."

He nodded and returned her smile. "Together."

Sarah felt her face light up in a smile she didn't know she had. "Yes. Together."

End.


End file.
